


perfect places

by appalachiansnail



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But he's Ong's fool, Daniel is a fool, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not as angsty as it sounds, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11240433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appalachiansnail/pseuds/appalachiansnail
Summary: Daniel wants to stop thinking, but he can't get Seongwoo out of his mind. It all gets worse when the man in question comes back to town.orsometimes to come together you first have to grow apart





	perfect places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the nights we don't remember are the nights we don't remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all,
> 
> Please read all the tags! There may be things in this story that might trigger certain people so if it isn't something you're comfortable with, please don't read it.
> 
> Also, please know that because it is a college AU, all characters are assumed to be over 18 unless explicitly stated otherwise.

Daniel arrived at the party early enough to catch Taewoong sober, which really rarely happened; the older man was notorious amongst his friends for his low tolerance for alcohol. Two or three beers were enough to flush his face and slur his speech, and more often than not he was unconscious by midnight, curled in an ungodly position on a couch, in a corner, or once, memorably, on a street curb outside of his ex’s apartment, body contorted into the shape of a heart.

Daniel rarely arrived at these parties when Taewoong was still conscious; he had an uncanny knack for figuring out when a party would reach its peak and typically planned his schedule in order to arrive right before. He didn’t have patience for the mindless chatter that came with the early hours of a house party, when you were forced to pretend to be excited to see people whose names you could barely remember and make awkward advances toward the dance floor, only to beat a quick retreat when nobody joined you; he much preferred to just pre-game in his room with friends until it was time to dance his mind out.

As he walked up the worn-down steps of the small house Jisung and his friends rented, a block off campus, he could hear the quiet hum of conversation. The setting sun glinted off the windows, preventing him from seeing inside, but even from his position he could distinguish Jisung’s energetic laughter, the familiar clatter of the loose handle of their beaten-down fridge, Jinwoo calling to someone upstairs. Taewoong’s voice boomed out from the yard out back, still coherent.

The last strains of summer heat snuck into the folds of his elbow, the crook of his neck, the crevices behind his ears; he could feel the first droplets of sweat forming on his temple. It felt strange, to be nervous in this place where he had spent so much of his college life; normally a sociable guy, this kind of anxiety was unfamiliar to him and he felt it physically.

He had felt alright on the walk to the house, but when he arrived, the discovery of the house’s unchanged appearance had started the steady creep of disquiet that was now overtaking him. Everything, right down to the overturned and cracked flowerpot that was haphazardly being used as an ashtray, was still so much the same.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. It was ridiculous, of course, to expect that his friends would collapse without him, and even more ridiculous to think that such a collapse would have manifested itself in alterations to their house of all things, but now that he was here, he was suddenly, irrationally afraid.

As he stood there, lost in thought, the door was suddenly opened with a loud bang and a small, orange-haired blur burst from within the house; Jihoon came to a screeching stop as he registered Daniel standing outside, frozen awkwardly halfway up the steps, and his face broke out into a wide grin.

“Daniel!” He called throatily.

“Hey Jihoon.” Daniel said weakly.

“It’s been ages!” Jihoon ambled further across the porch, coming to a stop at the top of the steps, an arm’s length away from Daniel’s head.

“Yeah, I’ve been...busy.” Daniel finished lamely, withering slightly under Jihoon’s single raised eyebrow.

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Jihoon said, though there was no venom in his voice. "Seemed like you were avoiding me."

Daniel floundered briefly for an excuse; semester-long project? Crippling terminal illness? It must have shown on his face because Jihoon laughed before continuing on.

“Somebody told me Seongwoo talked you into coming. I guess I should have known it would take him to drag you back to us, you two were inseparable back in the day. I like the hair, but it makes it kind of hard not to notice you suspiciously turning off into some alley every time you see me.” Jihoon said cheerfully, tugging gently at his once-pink locks.

Daniel scratches his head self-consciously, unsure of how to respond, but Jihoon doesn’t seem to expect him to say anything as he rambles on, latching one arm around the older man’s neck as he tugs him toward the house, oblivious to the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Feeling the warmth of Jihoon’s skin agains the back of his neck, Daniel felt a little of his nerves drain away as he let himself be pulled over the threshold into the house.

 ---

Daniel had learned of Seongwoo’s impending return three weeks earlier, on a rainy Thursday morning. He woke up on the couch to the sound of his phone buzzing softly on the ground from the pile of clothes on the ground. Flailing around to find it, he lost his balance and fell to the ground with a groan.

From the counter, Daniel’s suitemate Minho let out a dry snicker. Sitting up groggily, Daniel turned toward the sound.

“What?” He asked defensively as he searched for his phone with his left hand, eyes still squeezed tightly against the sunlight that filtered into the room.

“You look like a dumbass.” Minho said breezily as he fiddled at the counter; Daniel heard the drop of a raw egg into a cup.

“Make me one too. I feel like I got mainlined by a sumo wrestler.” Daniel begged.

“Alright.” Minho sighed and Daniel heard the fridge open. Turning back to his task at hand, he started to dig through fabric, hunting for the rough fabric of his jeans. His fingers landed on something that felt suspiciously like lace.

“Fuck, did I bring a girl home last night?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

Minho hummed affirmatively as he poured liquid into a glass cup.

“She’s gone already though, I heard the door slamming. Your sleep-talking shit must have scared her off again, I swear it’s a God-given gift. Mine is still in my room with no fucking clue and I’ve been dropping hints for an hour now.” Minho said carelessly, not bothering to lower his voice.

“She left some of her stuff. Do you know what her name was?”

“I don’t even remember what club we were at last night.” Minho laughed. “That stuff that Hwayoung brought was crazy, though. You were out of your mind last night dude, probably why the hangover’s so bad. And on a Monday night too, like shit!”

Minho approached him, and Daniel, sprawled out on the living room floor, forced his eyes open to find the man looming over him, prairie oyster in one hand, hair still wet from his shower.

“Thanks.” He said grimly, accepting the soft gold concoction. As he threw it back, he heard the click of high heels as a woman, in a state of utter disarray, stalked out of Minho’s room, shooting dirty glances in at him as she crossed their living space with large strides. Minho just shrugged and headed into the bathroom.

He winced when she slammed the door. It rang like a gunshot and reverberated in the air, reminding him that he still needed to find his phone.

As he hunted through the mess, his other roommate, Jonghyeon, emerged from the darkness of his room and squinted drearily.

“Can you turn that goddamn menace off?” He asked irritably.

“Sorry, I found it.” Daniel said hastily as he finally managed to extract his phone and silence the alarm.

"9 fucking AM, what are you even up for?” The man grumbles as he retreated to his room, mattress springs squeaking as he fell back onto the bed with a groan.

Daniel fidgeted slightly as he scrolled through his notifications, mindlessly clearing alerts from his various social media sites, remnants from the party last night to help fill the gaping hole in his memory. Minho emerged from the bathroom and began talking to him about a crazy incident at a party a few nights before, but Daniel just tuned him out, mind throbbing too intensely to untangle the intricacies of Minho’s story.

Suddenly, he stilled; Minho, noticing the change, paused as well to ask what was wrong, but Daniel ignored him. On his screen, ten familiar digits pulsed softly.

_Seongwoo: Hey, kind of last minute, but im coming back tomorrow and jisung had a work emergency and can’t come out to pick me up. can you come get me?_

For a moment, it felt as though some of the breath had been taken out of him. Behind him, he could feel that Minho had also stopped moving, slightly uncomfortable at the stiffness in the younger man’s body.

In a second however, the moment was broken by the sound of another alarm, ringing with aggression. He suddenly remembered why he had set an alarm in the first place and leapt to his feet, suddenly panicked.

“I have class.” He groaned as he scrambled to get dressed. “Shit shit shit shit shit…”

Minho, bolstered by Daniel’s revitalization, returned uncaringly to his story, which now apparently also involved a Saint Bernard and a copious amount of tequila, but Daniel wasn’t listening.

Scooping his backpack up from beside the door, he jammed his feet carelessly into a pair of shoes. By the time he realized that they were Minho’s and two sizes too large, he was already halfway down the stairs.

As he hurried across the expanse of grass that separated his dorm from the main part of campus, his mind returned to the text. The vagueness of the information and the suddenness of the message had thrown him off; was Seongwoo back for a visit? Was he going to be moving back long-term? Was he bringing a lot of luggage?

A pang of nostalgia ran through Daniel’s body as he ducked into a side street. There was a time, not too long ago, where he would have known the answer to all of those questions, and would have known long before anyone else. When Seongwoo was still a student, they were inseparable, to the point where it had become a joke amongst their friends.

It was rare, Daniel knew, to have that kind of luck, to find someone who overlapped with you in all of the right ways, and yet contrasted with you in equal measure. Where Daniel was stocky and rounded like an athlete, Seongwoo was lean and svelte, like a model. Daniel liked sweet foods; Seongwoo never found a burger that didn’t need more salt to match his tastes. Seongwoo had a fierce passion for horror films; Daniel was all bravado, but his white knuckles and easy-to-read expressions exposed his dislike for them.

And yet, from the day they were first assigned to partner in a mandatory chemistry lab in Daniel’s freshman year, they had been joined at the hip and uncannily in sync, unerringly matched. Seongwoo had never dated a girl Daniel didn’t like (no small feat considering Seongwoo’s streak of serial monogamy) and vice versa; they liked the same friends and hated the same enemies. Their other friends came to accept that there would always be a gap there that could not be crossed, a higher level of affection that Seongwoo reserved for Daniel, and Daniel for Seongwoo.

But all good things come to an end. After four and a half years (he took a semester off to intern), Seongwoo finally graduated, grinning in his oversized black robes, cheeks bright red in the chilly air. He flew off to NYC to accept an entry-level internship at a prestigious international trading firm, leaving Daniel behind, and the two had drifted apart.

As Daniel turned out onto 19th Street, he pulled his hoodie up over his head and lowered his face. The Greek houses stood in rows, looking down on him with blank eyes. As he came up on the Nu Eta house, he shrank naturally; nobody would likely be up at this hour, but he wanted to avoid being recognized regardless.

Before Seongwoo had left for New York, he and Daniel had spent hours on this lawn, lazily tossing a football around or watching shows on their laptops, sprawled out in the sun. He was still a brother, technically, but after the number of chapter meetings he’d missed, he had no doubt that he had been demoted to inactive status and his membership would probably be on the line during the next semester review.

As he crossed the road at the four-way stop and passed through the gate that lead to the main classroom complex, he straightened up, releasing a pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. He crossed the lawn with huge strides, checking his watch and picking up his pace when he realizes how little time he had left to get to class. Around him, a stream of students rush in and out of huge stone buildings, and he ducks and weaves around the morning rush.

He made it to class with seconds to spare; Dr. Shin, a short, lovely woman with a perfectly round face and curling waves of hair, was strict about attendance and in a small English seminar, it was impossible to sneak in late.

The English class was a remnant from his freshman idealism, back when college had still seemed so fresh and ripe with potential; he had been convinced that, like William Carlos Williams, his future medical career would do nothing to suppress his naturally literary soul and had boldly declared an English minor. By the time he realized that he was most certainly not William Carlos Williams, he was so deep in the minor that it felt like a shame to drop it. He soldiered on, convincing himself that it would show medical schools that he knew how to read.

This 20th Century American Lit seminar, taught by leading Faulkner scholar Yumi Shin, was one of the last classes he needed to take to fulfill the major requirement and he had been excited coming in, but the class was kicking his ass. Most of his fellow students were English majors who were much better at putting their ideas together during in-class discussion and his papers weren’t being received much better; Dr. Shin kept sending back C’s and D’s, claiming that his readings of the texts were too idealistic, and that he was forcing the works to conform to his standards, rather than taking in the works at the authors’ level.

Today also, Dr. Shin sent him an unimpressed look as he burst through the door. Sighing internally, he settled into his seat, preparing himself for another long class period.

 ---

 

Two days later found Daniel at the airport, fidgeting awkwardly with the buttons on his shirt. Taewoong had once, in a fit of irritation, threatened to put Daniel in a straightjacket because of his habit; Seongwoo joked that Daniel was the only person who could burn calories just lying in bed. When he was nervous especially, his hands had a mind of their own, which was good, because his actual mind was neurotically filled with the man who was, at the moment, hundreds of miles in the air.

When he had responded to Seongwoo’s texts with questions, he had been suddenly bombarded with a series of breezy, careless texts. Seongwoo had been offered a job by the firm after his internship ended; he had a three week break between the end of his internship and the start of his actual job and decided to head home, but his parents’ anniversary vacation had lined up with his break and he suddenly had two extra weeks to fill, so he was staying with Jaehwan in his apartment downtown for a bit.

Daniel had almost lied and said he had class to avoid coming out, but at the last moment, nostalgia stopped him (it would just be a drive from the airport he reasoned, hardly any time at all), which was why on Friday morning, he had shaken off his aching hangover and dutifully hopped into his 2001 Altima and made the thirty-minute drive out the airport.

He stood at the gate now, fingers busy, staring anxiously at the huge gate that separated traveler from receiver. Past the railing, he could see men and women of all origins rushing back and forth, dragging suitcases and talking in a multitude of voices; however, none of them were Seongwoo and with each passing traveler, his dread built a little more.

People began to stream out of the gate, a blur of suits and brightly colored bags and hats as tourist parents dragged their children closer and men and women in business attire barked anxiously into phones and speed-walked toward their connecting flights. Standing on his tip-toes, Daniel scanned the crowd.

Before long, he saw the familiar head of wild black hair, in disarray from a nap on the plane, making way through the crowd. When Ong finally broke through the crowd and saw him, an open, easy smile stretched across his face and he extended one hand, sending wild waves through his whole body, openly expressing his happiness. A reluctant grin crept onto Daniel’s face as he watched the older man rush towards him, bag still half unzipped, clumsiness sharply contrasting his refined appearance.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly as he approached Daniel. “Sorry I'm late, the lady above me forgot where she put her luggage and threw a fit.”

"Where did she end up finding it?"

"One row down," Seongwoo replied, rolling his eyes. "But a wanderer's life is fraught with such perils."

Daniel snorted and the older man shot him a self-satisfied grin. He sometimes wondered if the Seongwoo only liked him because he could never help but laugh at even the worst jokes.

"Did you wait long?" Seongwoo asked.

“You’re fine, I just got here. Do you need help with your luggage?”

“I’m good, just give me a sec.” Seongwoo said as he kneeled to zip his bags.

Looking down at him as he fiddled with a bottle of hand cream in his bag, Daniel was astonished by how little had changed; even the small flyaway hairs that refused to lie flat without copious amounts of hair gel seemed to be exactly the same length. Daniel felt suddenly self-conscious, with his new piercings and brightly-dyed hair; next to Seongwoo, who seemed as handsome and refreshing and self-assured as he had a year ago, he felt awkward in his own skin, so deliberately altered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Seongwoo popped back up and cheerfully suggested that they head out to beat morning traffic. Nodding, Daniel led the way out to the parking lot; all the while, Seongwoo kept up a running commentary, touching on Daniel’s hair, the flight attendant who had spilled something on his pants, the weather. Daniel stayed silent, letting the words roll over him; he had been doing that a lot recently.

By the time they made it to Daniel’s car, Seongwoo was talked out. As he moved his luggage to the trunk and settled in to his seat, he could see Seongwoo working his seatbelt through his fingers anxiously, but the he stayed quiet, focusing on starting up the car and pulling onto the highway. Beside him, Seongwoo faded in and out of sleep; he noted out of his peripheral vision the unsteady rise and fall of the other man's chest as he hovered on the boundary. After some time though, he shook himself awake, slapping his face lightly to clear his mind and sitting up straight, rolling down a window so that he could cool off.

They made it almost all the way to Jaehwan’s apartment in silence; Daniel was silently breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled onto the main street of their lazy college town when Seongwoo suddenly broke the silence.

“I talked to Minhyun yesterday. He said you haven’t been back to the house since I left. They’re talking about dropping you next year.”

Daniel didn't say anything; his mouth feels sewn shut and he can only grip the wheel a little tighter, his eyes glued straight ahead.

“Nobody in the dance team has heard from you in months. Jisung says you’ve been ignoring his calls. What happened dude?” Seongwoo asks, the tension in his voice rising slightly. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

“What is there to say?” Daniel said finally, his voice cracking slightly from underuse.

“I heard you’ve been hanging out with that Minho kid? I thought you hated him, Daniel. He’s been caught for possession twice, I don’t understand. Hyunbin told me you failed orgo last semester. You’re gonna screw yourself over.”

It was such a Seongwoo thing to do, Daniel reflected internally as he braced his back against his seat. The older man was physically clumsy but he had always been the emotionally sturdier one of the two of them, slower to anger, more willing to face their problems head on. It was one of their secrets when they had been close; so many times their bond had frayed but Seongwoo would always end up cornering him to talk it out. He had a way of loosening Daniel’s tongue, getting him to trust him enough to unload his problems, so this time Daniel stayed silent, clamping his jaw shut.

“Are you gonna say something?” Seongwoo repeated, and he was angry now, the familiar steel dancing around the edge of his voice. “I don’t know what’s going on but you’ve changed a lot and I want to know why.”

“There’s nothing to know.” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “I know we were close before but things are different now. I’m different. That’s all.”

“That’s bullshit.” Ong all but snarled. Realizing how harsh his tone was, he pulled back slightly before starting again.

“I know it’s been a while but it seems like you’ve cut all of us out of your life.” Ong used the plural, but Daniel knew that when he says “us” he really meant me; for a second, the pain in Seongwoo’s voice causes a pang of guilt in his chest, but then the older man continues.

“I knew distance was going to cause us to grow apart but you’ve been on radio silence for almost a year now, and I don’t know what’s going on. I had to find out about Somi from—“

At the sound of her name, Daniel jerked back suddenly, recoiling as his foot slams on the brake. For a second, the only sound was the two of them breathing, fast, short gusts, backs flush against the seats. The car behind him started honking and he eased up on the brake, letting the car roll back to cruising speed. Next to him, Seongwoo sighed quietly.

“I kind of thought that was what this is. Look, I know the situation is difficult for you but—“

“We’re here.” Daniel cut him off tersely, gesturing to Jaehwan’s apartment building, which loomed over them. He brought the car to a smooth stop by the pavement, right beneath the shadow of the towering complex; in the shade, he can't see Ong's face but he can imagine the tenseness in the hold of his mouth, in the muscles that lined his cheeks. His face, when angry, became even smaller, his eyes sharpening to deadly points, and Daniel was grateful for the darkness.

Seongwoo opened his mouth to say something else but at the last mooment, decided against it; he, better than anyone, knew how stubborn Daniel could be, how immovable he was when an opposing force tried to tell him how to feel or what to do. Even at the peak of their friendship, Seongwoo had always had a limited amount of influence on him. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he turned to get out of the car. The trunk slammed moments later and his face reappeared in the passenger window.

“Hey.” He said and his voice was gentle again. Daniel turned to him.

 Seongwoo’s head was caught in a halo of light, the overhead sun framing his face. Sunlight danced along the ridges of his cheekbones and jaw, his skin pulsing softly, the dark constellation of marks heavy against the iridescence.

 He was always good-looking, but in that moment, he was strangely beautiful, like a work of art, emptied of human pleasure so that only the sublime remained. Daniel suddenly felt miserable and wonderful and empty and full, all at once.

 “You’ve got my number. I’m here.” Seongwoo said and in that moment, it’s physical for him, the pain gutting him like a knife.

His hands broke out in a cold sweat, the waves of sheer affection and longing rolling over him in seemingly endless cycles. Forcing out a smile, he waved and started the car back up again, guiding it back onto the main road; in the rear view mirror, he could see Seongwoo watching him as he pulls away.

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel bursts into his dorm. Minho is sitting on the couch, feet reclined on a coffee table.

“I need a hit.” Daniel says.

Minho smiles.

 --

 

The first time he talked to Minho was two weeks after Seongwoo leaves. He hadn’t drunk since the going-away party; he hadn’t even left his dorm since the party. At first, people came; Jisung, with food; Minhyun and Jaehwan, trying to get him to visit a cat café; Woojin with tapes of their dance team rehearsals, routines Daniel missed because he had stopped showing up. They came alone at first, and then in gradually larger groups. 

 _“He needs time,”_ He heard them murmur, but he just waited it out, hearing the shuffle of feet as they waited and eventually gave up, dissipating in small groups until it’s just Jisung, who always left last.

Ong called him a few times; out of obligation, he respodned with apology texts claiming he was asleep, but his texts got more and more terse and after a certain point, Seongwoo got busy with his internship and stopped following up.

He slept, mostly. He had a bed, but he dragged his blankets to the floor and wrapped himself in them, creating a kind of nest. His sleep was nice, dreamless and empty, but he always seemed to wake up more tired than he was before. He skipped all his classes, lost track of the time; with his curtains drawn, he can hardly tell the time of day, but he found that he didn’t really care.

He eventually left his single dorm when he ran out of cup ramen, his food stock expended. In the haze of evening, he trudged to the convenience store near his dorm, which was attached to a gas station. Even though it was dark, he lowered the brim of his hat, not wanting to be recognized.

The neon lights of the station grated his eyes and the cashier looked at him with judgement in his eyes when he dumped enough junk food on the counter to last him another two weeks, but didn’t say anything 

It’s when he was heading back out into the cool spring air that he saw the hunched figure sitting on the curb, at the edge where the darkness met the glowing circle of light projected from the gas station’s cavernous ceiling. As he continued walking, Minho’s face is illuminated by the light; he recognizes the former member of their dance team from afar and waved.

The responding wave was lit up by the flash of a lighter and he saw the single waft of smoke curl upwards into the air above Minho’s head. Like a smoke signal it tugged at him and before he knew it, he was walking towards the younger man.

“What’s up?” He said as he approached, his voice cracking from lack of use.

Minho looked slightly surprised; although they had been on the dance team together for a few brief months, they had never been particularly close and Minho had been kicked off long before they shared any actually meaningful experiences. He didn’t say anything though, merely shrugged and took another puff from his cigarette.

“I haven’t seen you around.” Daniel said half-heartedly, now realizing how uncomfortable of a situation he had walked into.

“I got suspended for the semester.” Minho said gruffly, his eyes cast downward. “They’re letting me start again next fall.”

Daniel nodded, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He scuffed his shoes against the cement.

 “How’s dance team?” Minho asked, a hint of snideness in his voice.

“Same as usual, probably,” Daniel said. “I haven’t really been going to practices.”

“They’re gonna kick you out. Speaking from experience.” Minho said. He laughed, clearly pleased at his own wit.

Daniel just shrugged and crouched down.

For a few moments, the silence floated stiffly in the dry air. Cars sped by, kicking up clouds of dust that swirled in the smoke from Minho’s cigarette; earthiness permeated the atmosphere, the rich smell of nicotine blending with the scent of soil and the coming rain.

Minho evaluates him with hooded eyes; after a moment, he seems to come to a decision.

“I’m going to a party later tonight with some friends and a few girls from out of town. It’s a little bit off campus. Do you wanna come?”

Daniel considers it.

“Alright,” he says.

 

That night was the first night that Daniel really blacked out at a party. He woke up the next morning in Minho’s flat, hair a ridiculous, flamingo pink.

He liked it, he decided.

They went out most nights in the spring, Minho or his friend Jonghyeon somehow procuring admission into parties in hidden-away clubs, trailer parks where wannabe rappers and white trash twelve year olds weaved through the mass people crammed together in tiny spaces. They partied at frats sometimes, but the constant threat of cops and college frat-boy antics were irritating, so they went off campus primarily.

Minho introduced Daniel to weed, then molly, then poppers. He and Jonghyeon did a lot more, powders and syringes littering the floor of their shared dorms, but the party drugs were enough for Daniel; he just wanted to forget.

His grades dropped. During the day, he slept mostly, usually at Minho’s dorm. At night they went out. Minho was cruelly funny and had a charming smirk that made you like him; Jonghyeon, his second in command, had clever hands and was nice when he wasn’t high.

Spring turned to summer. His grades came back and his parents flipped out, pleading with him over the phone while he tried to placate them with empty promises. They thought they knew the problem, but they didn’t. He felt guilty though, seeing his mother’s pained face, so he promised to take summer classes, get caught up.

He started going to classes, but doing the bare minimum; he did his work, but he did as little of it as possible and he started drinking more, channeling the frustration he felt during nights trapped at his desk, finishing projects, into wilder partying on his nights off.

His days were filled with empty black, half memories that faded in and out, but it was fun and he liked it. It was like floating on an endless black ocean, numb, but warm.

 ---

After the day he dropped Ong off, during the times when he was sober, he thought about it a lot, the weird burning feeling that licked the inside of his chest cavity, ice hot. He knew it had been a bad idea, knew but still was weak to the feeling of yearning for the simpler times Seongwoo represented.

It was a normal response, he reasoned. Seongwoo was an old friend, his closest old friend, and he had missed him a lot. He responded physically to his emotions normally anyways; it was fine.

It was, however, a one-time thing, never to be repeated. It was fine, because Ong was leaving in two weeks, and everything would go back to normal. Everyone else had backed off, learned over a semester of cold shoulders and ducked heads that Daniel had found a different place for himself.

All he had to do was evade the man for two weeks.

Over the course of a full semester, Daniel had gotten fairly good at avoiding his old friends. It wasn’t hard during the summers, when the heat kept most everyone in doors, but there were still times where he would have to run evasive maneuvers when he spotted Jisung’s blond head bobbing across the campus lawn, or Jihoon and Jinyoung, hustling out of a classroom, heads stuck together as they listened to something on a shared pair of earbuds.

He was fairly good, in consequence, at avoiding Seongwoo for all of two days.

It was, he sighed internally, inevitable, after all, as he watched the older man weave around book shelves toward him. After all their years of tipsily gallivanting across campus, rushing to shared classes on mornings where they both overslept and hiding in alcoves and behind corners amidst their numerous prank wars with one another, there was no corner of campus that Daniel knew that Seongwoo didn’t 

On this particular day, Daniel was crouched in a small cutaway on the top floor of the library, body wrapped around his laptop, headphones in as he watched a new animated movie that had just become available on Netflix. The top floor, reserved for silent study, was filled with these kinds of small hideaways and this was Daniel’s favorite, just large enough for him to comfortably curl into.

Really, it was large enough for two people, Ong idle at the other end, long thin legs scrunched up as the two of them shared in a communal warmth. But that was then.

As Seongwoo got closer, his long legs eating up the distance between them, he forced himself into an upright position, pulling his headphones off his ears.

“Hey,” Seongwoo said brightly when he was within earshot. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Yeah.” Daniel said in response. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Seongwoo shrugged. “We didn’t really get to talk when you drove me here. I talked to Jisung and he sai—“

“Let’s not.” Daniel cut him off, anticipating what was coming. Seongwoo’s eyes were dark; Daniel knew what it meant, but he ignored it and decided to grab the bull by its horns.

“Look, I know what you want and I can’t give it to you. I’m different now, it’s been almost a year. I liked those guys, nothing against them, but we can’t go back to then. I’m not going back to the frat; I’m quitting the dance team officially next semester. It’s just not what I want to do anymore.”

“I’m not asking for you to go back, but are you just going to write it all off like that? You can't just ignore what happened.”

“I’m not writing it off. My time in college has been great, but I’m changing, and the other guys didn’t get that.”

"Or maybe they weren't interested in this bullshit coping mech—"

"It's not bullshit," he interrupted.

"I don't like seeing you like this."

"I think the pink actually suits me."

"Funny guy. You know I'm talking to you about this because I'm worried for you right? You don't have to look like you're about to get into a street fight," Seongwoo said, and there was hurt laced into his tone.

At the sight of the other man’s face, mouth slightly downturned, brows drawn together, Daniel couldn't help but soften slightly.

“Look, if you still wanna be friends with me, fine, but you’ve gotta be friends with the me now.” He said, trying to keep his voice gruff and changed the topic. “Tell me about your internship.”

He knew Seongwoo had more to say, but the other man wisely let it go, and started talking about his job, about how incredible the city is, the way the skyline lights up at night.

At some point, he sat down in the alcove, pulling his legs tight against his chest, Daniel scooting back to make room for him. The conversation came naturally to them, their dynamic comfortable and familiar; Seongwoo telling the stories, Daniel laughing and occasionally inserting a comment or joke that had Seongwoo doubling over. Before he knew it, an hour had passed and Seongwoo was explaining why he fled his temporary residence.

“Some girl danced on Minhyun when he was drunk last night and Jaehwan’s trying to pretend he’s fine.”

“Is it the acoustic?” Daniel asked.

Seongwoo shook his head darkly. “Electric. He tuned it for three hours this morning.”

Daniel snickered.

“On the bright side, I think he’s almost done with an album. But I swear I’m gonna smash that goddamn instrument before he finishes.”

“He has, like, a hundred of them. He’ll just add a song about you to the track list.”

Ong laughed, the energetic crescendo bursting from his open mouth.

“Minhyun’s trying to give him some space because he thinks he’ll work through it himself, so of course I’m the only loser here."

“Did he dance with her?”

Ong snorted derisively. “I’m not even sure he realized she was dancing on him, the girl was three feet tall with heels and he was more than a little tipsy. It’s fine, Jaehwan’s just a paranoid drama queen." 

“Wouldn’t you be, if your boyfriend had his own fan club on campus?” Daniel asked with a smile. Minhyun's fans called him the Emperor and had their own Facebook group devoted to taking secret pictures of him around campus. A few years back, Minki managed to infiltrate it and the guys had been giving Minhyun shit for it since.

“Not if it was composed entirely of females and my boyfriend knew all the words to _The Boy from Oz_. I know sexuality's a spectrum, but Minhyun’s as far on the gay side as you can get.”

Daniel chuckled at that, but can’t think of anything to say. It feels weird to roll their names around in his mouth, Minhyun and Jaehwan and people he hadn’t spoken to in months; to be tentative about them, where they were and what they wanted, to not know for sure.

Sensing the shift in his mood, Ong leaned forward, propping his face up with his hands.

“So, listen, I didn’t just come to chat. I actually need to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Daniel said mindlessly. 

“My granddad got moved to a clinic that’s a couple of miles from here. It’s like a thirty-minute drive and I want to visit her a couple of times before I leave, but I need someone to drive me and nobody else is free. Can I catch a ride from you next Friday? I’ll repay you in greasy fast food.”

Internally, every cell of Daniel’s body seemed to be screaming no. Logically, this contradicted Daniel’s entire plan for these two weeks. That being said, Seongwoo had always been extremely close to his grandfather and Daniel knew that her Alzheimer’s diagnosis had hit him hard. Looking at the lock of the older man’s shoulders, the tight lines of his drawn face, he felt a rush of empathy.

Sensing his hesitance, Seongwoo’s face fell.

“It’s fine, I can try to find a bus. I just thought— 

“No! I can do it, sorry.” Daniel interrupted, smiling. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

The look of relief that passed over Seongwoo’s face makes Daniel feel like it was worth it, but he couldn’t shake the underlying dread, tiptoeing around the edges of his mind.

“Great! Thanks so much man, you’re a lifesaver.” Seongwoo said with an easy grin. “I have to go, I’m getting lunch with a professor. I’ll see you around!”

“Yeah.” Daniel says dismissively as he returns to his movie. 

“Daniel.”

Daniel looks back up reluctantly, meeting the other man’s eyes.

“I really mean it. Thanks.” Seongwoo’s eyes are serious, no sign of their normal playful sparkle.

As he watches the older man go, Daniel can’t seem to keep a smile from forming on his face.

 ---

That afternoon, he had English seminar again. The air conditioning in the English building was down, and the heat was unbearable in their basement classroom, an unyielding assault from all sides. Dr. Shin was slumped in a chair at the front of the room, waving a paper fan in her face; she had given up on teaching for the day, and had assigned them to instead peer review their most recent papers in partners.

Daniel had been paired with a man named Sungwoon, an Anthropology major a year above Daniel who had taken a sabbatical halfway through college and was now graduating with him. Sungwoon was a nice guy, with an eerily perfect and genuine face; earnest and hardworking, he was the kind of person that always made Daniel feel a little inadequate, and more than a little cruel.

Jokes had a tendency to go over his head, for example; once, in response to a sarcastic comment Daniel had made during an in-class discussion, Sungwoon had spent an entire week compiling a list of recommended readings on French symbolists, properly cited with annotations. Daniel, feeling guilty and not having the heart to clarify the ironic nature of his comment, had dutifully checked out all of the recommended books and made a show of bringing them to class. After that, he stopped making those types of jokes around the older man. 

At the moment, Sungwoon was earnestly poring over Daniel’s draft, which he had roughly dashed off last night in the library, sleep deprived and a little bit stoned. It was shit; he knew it was, a haphazard analysis of Prufrock that used the word “Modernist” to explain away any passages he couldn’t, in his stupor, seem to crack and drawing wild conclusions copied and pasted from academic papers he found online, and yet Sungwoon, face screwed seriously in thought, was furiously marking it.

Daniel, feeling a sudden impetus at the sight of his partner working so hard, dashes off, with a sudden burst of motion, a few quick annotations to Sungwoon’s paper, which is well thought-out and concise. He resists the urge to tear his draft out of Sungwoon’s hands and shred it.

After a few more minutes of pretending to work, he realized Sungwoon seemed to have come to the end of his paper and was sitting patiently, hands folded over his essay. He looked up, pretending to have just finished reading through as well, and Sungwoon took this as a sign to start talking.

“I like how you started the paper, and I think I get what you’re trying to say, but I think a lot of your logical jumps are too far-fetched. No offense but I think you’re projecting a little bit on to the poem.”

 _Why does everyone keep saying that?_ Daniel thought irritably.

“I’m pretty sure Eliot didn’t write this to express his unrequited love. He was married when this was published.”

 _Ah_ , Daniel thought. _That’s why._

Sungwoon leaned forward and gestured to a paragraph covered in red squiggles.

“I think this whole paragraph is a major stretch. I agree that women are an important part of the poem, but at the end of the day, Eliot only discusses them as objects, not characters. The poem is internal; I think you should focus more on Prufrock’s psyche and less on the women.”

“It’s called a love song though.” Daniel said valiantly, feeling a rush of sudden desire to redeem himself that would probably have been more helpful the previous night when he was baked beyond belief. “I kind of tie it together in this part and that’s sort of part of the supporting argument.”

“Yes, but in the end, the poem makes it clear that he isn’t going to go through with it. I think on a basic level, the poem is a response to the intellectualism Eliot saw at Harvard. What’s important is that Prufrock traps himself with his own intelligence and he’s locked in this cycle of mundanity.”

“Then what about the mermaid part?” Daniel asked.

“Prufrock knows they aren’t going to sing to him. This last part is him coming to terms with the fact that he is never actually going to confess his feelings to the woman.”

“And that’s the overwhelming question.”

 “Yeah. What’s tragic about Prufrock is that he knows the question that will change everything but he can’t ask it, which is why he’s not Hamlet, but the Fool. He can see what he could have, but he rationalizes that he can never have it; he hates himself, but he pities himself too much to change.”

As he spoke, Sungwoon’s face became gradually flushed from excitement and he gestured more animatedly, gradually pulling Daniel out of his heat-induced stupor and into the flow of the older man’s enthusiasm. It must be nice, Daniel thought wistfully, to have this kind of passion for something at all.

“Anyways, I do really like some of the passages you’ve written here but I think overall it’d be better if you adjusted how you’re defending your argument. If you think the “you” in the poem is a woman that’s fine, but you have to find a better way to back it up,” Sungwoon was saying. “Otherwise, it’s just too simple of a reading.”

“Okay.” Daniel said, nodding. He started shuffling around his papers, assuming that it was time for him to critique Sungwoon's paper (which, as far as he could tell, was a faultless analysis of Crane's "At Melville's Tomb" that he was going to have to bullshit problems out of).

 “Can I ask you something?” Sungwoon asked suddenly.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Do you like this poem?”

Daniel, surprised, looked up at Sungwoon, but the other man seemed genuinely curious.

“Not particularly. It’s fine, but it’s a little…pretentious? I don’t know, I guess I don’t really care either way. Why? Do you like it?” He asked.

“Yeah, I really like it.” Sungwoon said dreamily, and Daniel was hit with another twinge of envy 

“Why?” He asks curiously.

“I mean don’t you think it’s amazing? Eliot wrote this when he was 22. That’s our age. Right out of college, he wrote a poem that would set the standard for an entire era of American literature. But it’s also exactly the kind of thing you’d expect from a 22-year old; it’s angsty and overdramatic and totally self-obsessed. The whole poem’s about a guy confessing to his crush but he turns it into this big existential monologue.” 

“I guess it is pretty neat.” Daniel said, nodding.

“We’re all Prufrock in a way.” Sungwoon said with finality and Daniel could tell he was reaching the crux of his argument from the way his voice had deepened to a throaty, excited rasp, his hands moving energetically over the desk.

“We aren’t prophets. We’re floating through life, not knowing what’s going to happen next and it makes us miserable and scared, so we trap ourselves in routines to feel safer. We know what we should be asking, we know the big questions, but we’re scared because we don’t want to know the answers, so we convince ourselves it's better not to know.”

“We think we’re getting older, but we’re still the same as that 22-year-old.” Daniel said, and Sungwoon nodded emphatically in agreement.

 “We’re all still that guy in the middle of the party who’s totally alone, watching the pretty girls pass him by,” He said. “And we can’t say anything, because we’re waiting for a sign that’s not gonna come.”

The room was swelteringly hot, but for a second, Daniel felt deeply, terribly cold.

 ---

 

At the party, Sungwoon’s words echoed in Daniel’s head as he pressed himself against the wall of Jisung’s living room. The party was building now, music thumping from an unnecessary number of speakers as people gradually migrated toward the center of the room, which was functioning as a dance floor.

The day had darkened into night and flashes of light danced frenetically on the walls, lighting up faces momentarily. The mass of people was moving as one body now, rising and falling to the waves of top 40 that poured into the room. Daniel weave in and out, ducking around body parts that seemed independent. An arm protruded here, a neck bursting through the darkness there, separated from their bodies so that though the room was crowded, Daniel felt as though he was the only person in the room.

 _We can’t say anything because we’re waiting for a sign that’s not gonna come_.

There was something about it that was sticking for some reason; whether it was the way Sungwoon had worded it, or just the way it had sounded in the warm dusty air, he wasn’t sure, but he had been playing around with it in his head for a while.

He had seen a few people he knew but because the party was doubling as a welcome-back function for Seongwoo and a congrats-on-finishing-your-thesis party for Jisung, there were a good number of faces he didn’t recognize.

Most of his friends ( _if they could still be called that_ , he corrected internally) hadn’t arrived yet and he had been successfully evading Jisung, whose loud brazen laugh practically functioned as a homing signal. Jihoon had disappeared some time ago to find a twister board, leaving Daniel alone in the living room, drink in hand, awkwardly shuffling his feet.

 _Watching the pretty girls pass him by_  

Suddenly, he’s hit by a rapidly moving body. Stumbling back a few steps, he finds himself staring into a pair of familiarly dopey eyes.

“Jinyoung!” He says excitedly, wrapping one arm around the younger man.

“Sup, Daniel! It’s been forever what the heck. Jaehwan said you didn’t want to be friends with us anymore. They gave me a new big!” Jinyoung said, pouting slightly.

Daniel felt a rush of affection for the boy wrapped around him. Giving him a bid had been a gamble, considering the kid didn’t lift his eyes from the ground once during rush, but Minki got one “gut pick” a year and said he had a good feeling about the Bae boy.

Daniel had been assigned to be his big, in hopes that the older man’s relentlessly cheerful and sociable personality would tease some of the shyness out of Jinyoung. It had been a process, one that consisted of many painfully awkward lunches and turned-down invitations, but Daniel had patiently helped Jinyoung open up not only to him but to the rest of the fraternity as well.

The difference between the Jinyoung of now and then was remarkable, almost as though he were a completely different person, an energetic, cheerful young man who was refreshingly honest, and more often than not, charmingly cute. He had a community now, Jihoon and another younger man named Daehwi being his closest friends, and Daniel felt extremely proud of him.

“Yeah sorry it’s been ages. I’ve just been, like, figuring some stuff out,” he said, smiling nervously.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jinyoung said with a smile, and Daniel had to resist the urge to pinch his cheek.

“Thanks buddy. How’re Wayne and Thierry?” He asked, referring to the two silver tabbies the frat had adopted when they were found, stick thin and shivering, left by the dumpster after a party. Daniel in particular had campaigned aggressively to take them on, and had nursed them himself until they reached a healthy weight.

“They’re good, but they're Wanda and Thelma now.” Jinyoung said, with laughter in his voice.

“What?!” Daniel yelped. “They’re girls?”

“They didn’t have the parts, Daniel, I honestly don’t know how we didn’t realize sooner.” 

"You're kidding."

"Why would I even lie about this?"

Daniel evaluated this information. This was not the change he’d been expecting either.

“But they’re fine, by the way. Thelma’s getting fat, so we’re putting her on a diet.”

“That’s good. Wait, you’re not drinking tonight are you?” he asked seriously.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Yah! Jaehwan is my big now, you don’t get to boss me around. 

“Jaehwan can’t even keep track of his fingers, the man’s not capable of being a big at all. I’m just looking out for you, as a friend who is both older and wiser.” Daniel said, smiling and tugging on an imaginary beard.

“Tch! After the stunt you pulled at the pineapple party, you really can’t say anything dude.” Jinyoung laughed.

“What?” Daniel said, heart suddenly jumping. He grabbed Jinyoung’s arm. “Wait, what did I do at the pineapple party? Wait, why were you even at the pineapple party? Actually was I even at the pineapple party?” 

Jinyoung, startled by the sudden stream of questions, stared at him, eyes wide.

“I think so…? The pink hair’s hard to miss, man,” he said, shaking off Daniel’s hand. “I went with Haknyeon because his girlfriend’s brother is in Pi Kapp.”

“What did I do?” Daniel asked, dread rising in his throat. The pineapple party, named only because all of the drinks were served in hollowed-out pineapples, was thrown by Pi Kappa Theta, a fraternity notorious for being a center for copping whatever drugs you were feeling on campus; it was one of the biggest parties of the year, and inevitably ended with the cops shutting the whole thing down. Every year Pi Kapp got a warning notice about it, and yet they always managed to set it up again the next year.

“You don’t remember?” Jinyoung asked, surprised. “You did seem pretty out of it though.”

“I was—“ Daniel was about to say _totally cross-faded_ but decided against it. He didn't remember very much about the night, but that probably didn’t even totally encompass it; he remembered Jonghyeon procuring white pills out of nowhere, flashes of color and light that blurred together. At the time, he had written it off; he had honestly had worse nights and he took the fact that he still remembered something to be a good sign. 

“What did I do?” He asked again, anxiety rising.

“I don’t really know, I said hi to you and you didn’t recognize me so I gave you some space. But at some point, I guess you got really pissed and kicked a table over? Two of the Pi Kapp guys kicked you out but they had to close down early because you spilled a bunch of their liquor. And I think—“ Jinyoung stopped abruptly, lips suddenly pursing.

Daniel stared at him, surprised.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Jinyoung, seriously, what? Don’t worry about it, I’ve done worse shit than get kicked out of a party.” Daniel laughed, trying to seem reassuring.

“It’s really nothing, I wasn’t close and I’m not sure if I actually—“

“Dude, Jinyoung. Cut the bullshit.” Daniel said, trying to keep his tone light but he was getting freaked out; Jinyoung was normally a really honest kid, always forthcoming in a kind way. “Seriously, what.”

Jinyoung sighed.

“I think they were talking about Somi.”

\--- 

 

_The decorations for the pineapple party are shitty, but frat parties usually are, because the frats are already too wasted by the time they start decorating and the beer goggles turn trashy toilet paper streams into the nicest tapestries, a cheap Party City lava lamp into mood lighting._

_The main room is a wasteland of junk, abandoned cups and articles of clothing littering the wooden floor. In the center of the room, a mass of bodies was rolling to the sounds of mindless EDM; the hired DJ was passed out on a couch, a Spotify playlist running through the empty beat after empty beat in his stead._

_Daniel feels great but he’s having some issues with his legs at this point_. _One of his feet looks way larger than the other one and it’s freaking him out a little, but he’s too stoned to worry too much about his condition. Minho, beside him, is way worse anyway._

_People amble up to the drink table and flash the bands on their wrists. They mutter unintelligible things mostly, but the guy mixing the drinks just nods and starts mixing alcohol, knowing they’re probably too drunk to know what they’re drinking anyway._

_“I want a drink.” Minho says loudly in Daniel’s ear and he nods, so they step into line._

_As they wait, a blond girl stumbles out of the throbbing darkness, dragging a huge man behind her. The guy looks like a NBA player. Daniel flinches, but only a little bit. The pair slip in front of them, jumping a big chunk of the line._

_“Hey, what the fuck?” Minho says. “No cutting.”_

_"I'm not cutting you."_

_"Yes, you are! Go to the back of the line!" Minho says as he grabs her arm._

_“Chill out, holy shit.” The girl says angrily, ripping her arm out and falling backwards a little, her companion barely catching her. She stays where she is though, and orders a drink. Minho, more complacent because of his high, just watches helplessly._

_Daniel steps forward and pokes her._

_“You cut us. Get in line.”_

_“This is a different line, get off my back. There’s room for all of us.” She said, flipping her hair as she turned to him._

_Daniel feels like there’s an argument he could be making, but that would require sleeping first. Or eating. Or both. So instead, he puts his right hand on her head, and that feels alright._

_“What the hell, don’t touch me.” The girl slurs angrily, slapping at his hand. “I don’t even know you.”_

_“Don’t touch her, man.” Her minion says amiably._

_“Sorry,” he says to her. “You look like a lizard.”_

_“You look like a Saint Bernard.” He tells her partner in crime solemnly._

_Next to him, Minho is laughing now. “Saint Bernard!” he says, and Daniel smiles, happy he's said something funny._

_"It's a type of dog," he says pedantically._

_"I don't look like a dog."_

_"You really do," Minho said seriously._

_"No, I do-"_

_"You do!" Minho laughed._

_“Wait a minute, I do know you!” The girl says suddenly, pointing a finger at Daniel. “I’ve seen you before.”_

_"No you haven't."_

_"I know I have. You look so familiar."_

_“Different Daniel.” He says helpfully._

_“Daniel! I knew it!” She jumps up and down very excitedly. Frankenstein’s monster offers his hand for a high five and she puts a drink in it._

_“You’re the boy who dated Somi!” She says confidently, facing Daniel head on._

_Daniel’s blood runs a little cold._

_“No, I’m not.” He says harshly._

_“Who’s Somi?” The giant oaf asks._

_“Yes, you are.” The girl says, angry now._

_“You say that in your sleep sometimes.” Minho says excitedly. He tries for an impression. “Somi! Somi!”_

_“Chanmi, who is that?” Big Incompetent Giant asks, frustrated now. He spills a little bit of his drink on the girl, but she’s smelled blood and can’t be distracted._

_Minho screws his face up, concentrating hard. “Wait, wasn’t she in a car accident?”_

_“Yeah, I heard she fought with her boyfriend at a party and got in an accident going home because she was drunk driving.” The girl’s eyes open wider. “Wow, I said all that! I’m, like, not even drunk!”_

_She takes another sip from the drink in her hand to fix this. Daniel can’t move._

_"Who's Somi?"_

_"Oh my god, shut up. Seriously," the girl turns scornfully to her partner._

_"You're such a bitch when you're drunk."_

_"It's because I have to look up when I talk to you and it makes me feel nauseous," the girl snarled back._

_Minho’s eyebrows have traveled so far down his face by now that they practically touch his nose._

_“Wait. Wait.” He says, turning to Daniel. “You were her boyfriend!”_

_"Hey, yeah!" Chanmi said. "Oh my god, is it true that they had to cut her in half because they couldn't get her legs out of the wreck?"_

_Suddenly, Daniel’s legs work fine. Or they must, he thinks, because one of them is planted against the table and is kicking it. Golden liquids slosh, arcing in the air as the table falls backwards, taking people down with it. Beside him, Minho is howling something fierce and the girl is whirling around, trying to protect her hair. Glass shatters on the ground and the lights they throw wink at him conspiringly; he feels nauseous._

_He feels strong hands wrap around his arm, as darkness invades his vision._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You finished! This is the first thing I've ever written/posted to any website so please comment/kudo/bookmark to let me know how I'm doing! I love your feedback, especially on whether I'm using ao3 correctly since I am new to this.
> 
> I know this chapter was kind of boring; I'm sorry about that but I wanted to set up some things! There will be more Ongniel interaction in the next chapter, so please bear with the weird AP lit tangent I spent three hours on haha. 
> 
> Also, please check out the song "All My Friends" by Snakehips, featuring Tinashe and Chance the Rapper, which this chapter is named after; it's a bop.
> 
> Lastly, three great Ongniel fics on this site that I have shamelessly borrowed plot elements:
> 
> "'idk' (and other other cute ways of saying 'i like you')" by snapchat
> 
> "Dearest and Nearest" by TerraRising
> 
> "crawl" by dieyenkai
> 
> Be sure to check out all of those stories and give their authors lots of support! I personally really liked them and am indebted to them for inspiration.
> 
> x  
> appalachiansnail


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